


Nightmare

by CaptainHarleyQuinn (orphan_account)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Allusions to Child Abuse, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Aura Seeing, Aura Seering, Blind!Harry, Blindness, Emanciated!Harry, Emanciation, Gen, Magical Auras, Time Travel, allusion to major character torture, powerful!Harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-22
Updated: 2013-09-14
Packaged: 2017-12-21 01:21:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/894120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/CaptainHarleyQuinn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The arrival of a large magnificent stag heralds the beginning of the end for Professor Sirius Orin, a potential time-traveller whose real name and real origins remain both unknown and undisclosed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is an entire experiment; I have never done this type of story nor a genre quite like this and as such, I am most apprehensive about how well this is received. Due to this apprehension, your comments and reviews would be most helpful in deciding whether I should keep this story on or whether I should scrap it entirely and place it in the rejection pile.
> 
> Also, one might notice that the "nightmare stag" was inspired by the 'Comic Con Hannibal Panel'.

#  _Nightmare_

### The Once-Beast

_1st September,_   
_1977_

"Another year has come," Albus Dumbledore spread his arms wide, as if to embrace the entirety of the hall, a large smile spread across his wizen face, looking for all the world as if he wanted to be no where but where he currently stood.

"We have lost students and we have found students, some due to graduation and some-" here, the ageing wizard paused, and the silence that had befell the Great Hall when the headmaster had stood, seemed to suddenly darken. "-in the most deadliest of ways.

"Lord Voldemort is still on the rise, and I urge you to proceed amongst Hogsmead and elsewhere with the utmost caution. His followers have no mercy for those that do not pledge allegiance to their cause and I would so dearly mourn those who would be lost, both to death and to the darkness inherent in Lord Voldemorts actions,"

Flinches ran across the cavernous room, sharp vowels and rounded consonants echoing loudly throughout the high arching ceilings and stone walls.

"But alas, even in the darkest of times, if one can only remember to turn on the _light_ \- help will always be given whence it is needed," Silence stood, death borne as if like a plague as the words twisted around them, like a shawl one could not take off.

His face suddenly so much older, as if he had aged in the few moments of heavy silence, Headmaster Dumbledore heaved a heavy sigh before staring at his students. “Be careful, my students,"

As if brought to a heavy standstill, quiet reigned across the hall, many shifting nervously in their seats, frowns drawn low across their faces as hands trembled. “Now, on a much lighter note; _enjoy_ ,"

Then, so suddenly and so quickly no one could see the moment between empty and full, the tables were suddenly groaning and creaking beneath enormous piles of food that glittered smoothly on shimmering, heavy gold plates that wavered in the candlelight around them.

Talk amongst the tables were slow to start, Headmaster Dumbledores warning low and heavy in their ears and on the minds, caution amongst every student like a thick barrier that protected them as much as it hindered them

"What do you suppose he meant?" A tall, black-haired boy spoke to his bespectacled neighbour, an even taller brunet who shrugged his shoulders, biting ravenously into a chicken leg.

The bespectacled brunet frowned up the headmaster, bewilderment covering his face. “I’m not sure, but surely you’ve heard of the recent attacks around Muggle London and even Diagon Alley," his friend snorted.

“‘Course I have, who hasn’t?" The black-haired boy grunted around a chicken roll. “You’d have to be deaf, blind _and_ stupid not to have heard ‘bout ‘em,"

"Perhaps a little more _tact_ , Sirius?" A quiet voice cautioned the black haired boy. Both the brunet and the boy looked at their classmate across them, tawny hair falling into tired amber eyes.

Sirius - for that was the black-haired boys name - scoffed, taking another bite from his chicken roll. “I don’t do _tact_ , Remus,"

The tawny haired boy, Remus as Sirius had christened him, shook his head, as he pointed a forkful of mash at Sirius and the bespectacled boy. “ _I_ would, or have you not heard of what happened to poor Lily Evans, hmmm James?"

The brunet yelped, choking briefly on a bite of his sausage as he struggled to answer. “ _What_! What happened to Evans?"

Another forkful of mash was pointed, not at the suddenly bashful James and the blanching Sirius but down the Gryffindor table at a sad looking girl with fiery curls down to her lower hips. She was mushing a pile of mash around her plate, bright green eyes miserable as she stared down at her plate.

" _Lily’s_ -" Remus seemed to use her given name deliberately, as if to taunt the blushing James. "-house in Surrey was attacked over the summer," James eyebrow rose, a flush stirring in his cheeks again and his fists clenched around gold cutlery.

"What?" Sirius’ voice seemed to rise in pitch slightly.

Remus nodded, another forkful of mash making its way into his mouth. “Hmm-mhhh,"he nodded. " Mr and Mrs Evans, its only Lily and her cow of a sister are the only ones left,"

"Where’s she been staying?" James asked, dropping his voice as several others looked over at them, as of in alarm to the high pitch of his usually deep voice.

Around another forkful of sausage and mash, Remus shrugged before swallowing as James and Sirius stared at him, the boy sitting next to Remus staring at him also. “At Alice Prewetts," indeed, a tall girl with mouse-brown hair chopped prettily around her face sat across the Lily. “Though Alice as been staying at the Longbottoms with Frank since her parents left,"

James sighed. “It seems everything beens going tits-up, isn’t it?"

Sirius snorted, though it held an apologetic edge that made the boy next to Remus, a pudgy, mousy boy called Peter, stare at him. “Talk ta yourself, Prongs,"

James snickered slightly, though his face still seemed somewhat pale. “Well, I suppose apart from you where everything is rainbows and daises considering you’re finally away from the Parental Monsters,"

Though his face still seemed concerned and his eyes strayed towards the girls a few seats down from them, Remus snickered into his gravy covered mash. “And from the little monster," here, James and Sirius lent away from each to gaze over at a green and silver decked table where a sixth year called Regulus was sitting. James and Sirius glanced at each other before snickering helplessly, into each others shoulders. Peter and Remus glanced at them, then each other before snorting into their plates.

But as their laughter seem to blend into the background of the noise of the Great Hall, the sudden clap of thunder above them and the quick flash of lightening frightened Peter, who let out a loud squeak which was lost between several screams of feminine and masculine nature as the Great Hall doors seem to bang all the way open, rebounding off the doors as rain sluiced down the suddenly shivering windows.

The clack of _something_ against solid stone tiles seemed to startle several students and even Professors, the Defence Against the Dark Arts seemed somewhat terrified, shoulder length black hair hiding a startled face and wide grey eyes as a great beast rounded the corner of the Entrance Hall into the Great Hall.

A girl screamed, high pitched and terrified.

.

It was a stag.

Large and magnificent, the black beast towered over a full six foot, its antlers curling and twisting in a beautiful juxtaposition to the slim straightness of its legs and the boned definition of its broad shoulders as its sides heaved deeply with the beasts broad breaths.

But it was not at all like its brethren, whose beautiful coats were a usual sheer rainbow of earthy colours with dapple spots. Rather, this beast seem to be a shade of such black it was hard to distinguish it from the shadows that seemed to warp around it, as if frightened of touching the magnificent beast.

With the attention of the whole school upon it, it seemed more restless than nervous, its right foreleg pawing the ground even as the beasts head tossed back, snorting as if in derision.

However, it was not its unlikeliness in appearance to its brothers that seemed to make some nervous nor its rather unusual broadness and magnificence, rather it was the tall beasts emaciated appearance that seemed to unnerve many.

Indeed, its broad shoulders tapered down to extremely thin sides, ribs so visible they pressed sharply against the black fur, slim legs bony and seemingly fragile though their strength was belied by the fact that it was holding itself up without any trouble.

But as they seemed to realise they had been staring, and quite rudely as that, they met the beasts eyes, and many a student gasped, leaning back in a horrible sort of terror as they met that blank stare, those unfocused bluish-milk white eyes staring blindly past anything they could see.

It was as unnerving as it was beautiful.

But then it seemed to _melt_ , as if suddenly transfigured from its natural state as its head was tossed back irritably, massive antlers suddenly looking even more dangerous as it threatened to gorge several students who had started to lean forward.

It started at the beasts magnificent antlers, black bone twisting and curling at the ends as they seem to shrink, becoming smaller and smaller until they suddenly fell, as if like a black waterfall until it fell down a slim, white-skinned back.

Indeed, its body had also changed, shrinking and contorting in ways that many thought impossible never mind improbable as the face seem to _shrink_ , the snout compressing in on it self and then _twisting_ even as the eyes grew larger, more human until they almost took over the beasts face, impossibly thin forelegs cracked loudly before shrinking as hooves transformed and lightened, forming thin hands and thin fingers that, when flexed as if in relief, cracked loudly and disgustingly.

Its back legs and hindquarters had gone through a similar transformation, creaking and contorting in ways that made many wince as that had been a magnificent beast fell the floor with a smack, skinny legs suddenly unable to hold its slight human weight.

The things hair, as black as the stags fur, fell to its waist, hid his white face blocking anything important from view. Shimmering robes, a sort of iridescent material, covered the once-stags modesty.

Headmaster Dumbledore, magical aura splayed around him dangerously, stood and stared at the once-beast. Blank, blind eyes stared at the ageing wizard, the once-beasts own magic, a mixture of crimson red and bright shocking white flared brightly around him and Dumbledores wizened eyes seemed to widen exponentially.

Professor Orin, the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor - a tall dark-haired man with grey eyes - gaped as those large blind eyes and that gaunt deathly face upturned away from Albus Dumbledore to him, blank eyes seemingly staring into his soul.

"Hello, Sirius,"

Sirius Orin swallowed painfully as he stood, a fist clenched at his side even as they shivered in pain. He placed a hand on Dumbledores shoulder, one that spoke of several certain things that only the three in front of the students seemed to understand and cipher. Professor Orin took a step closer, and another one and then another until he was standing in front of the once-beast, towering over the slight once-beasts emaciated form more than three heads tall.

A trembling hand cupped the smaller males gaunt cheek, before something wet fell to the floor beneath their feet, staining it a small dark spot. Professor Orin’s shoulders trembled once, twice, thrice before a pained sob was torn from the elders throat and Orin fell his knees, throwing muscled arms around the emaciated waist of the once-beast before him, burying his tear-stained face into the stomach of the once-beast.

The once-beast stared blankly down at Sirius Orin’s hidden head before a thin, shaking hand was lifted and rested against the top of the Professors head. It carded slowly through the mans hair.

"There, there Sirius," the once-beast soothed. “I’m here now,"

_**tbc** _


	2. Chapter 2

The room is silent, flames slithering their way up the walls with a sort of distant superiority. A soft crackle and knuckles crack louder than a gunshot in the sudden silence, the only audible thing is blood rushing through half-hearted veins and hearts beating to a rhythm only found in half decimated cemeteries.

Sirius stares at him from the corner of his eyes, taking in the too-slim curve of his back, the knobs of his spine and how his hips move like fluid wine as the darkness clings. He's never saw anything so beautiful and so horrifying. 

He thinks he knows this boy, this boy with the hollow cheeks and the thin wrists with pale ankles to match, this boy with the rotting ribs and the glazed blind eyes that Sirius avoids with all the power he can because it's like a Dementor staring at him, soulless and blank; bland like a piece of paper - crumpled and thrown away.

But then the boy moves with a fluid gracefulness that seemed to have faded, like a half forgotten dream, within the depths of memories and it makes his eyes curve, unsettled.

He knows this boy, he remembers half-murmured secrets, told in the dead of silence as night darkened around them, how fragile hands would grasp his as words siphoned around him. He members Harry, with his short frame and fragile build, scars and decaying scent that made Sirius wrinkle his nose even as vanilla and macadamia slithered over it, secrecy even within his home.

Harry watches him back, blind eyes glazed but seeing the outline of a tough build, muscles beneath deceptive battle robes as the mans magic tosses around him, cool and sweetly salty, as if siphoned from the sea itself. 

It matches Sirius' eyes, stormy grey with a hint of shadows that remind Harry of darkened nights spent deep with his Cupboard, stuttering voice singing deadened funeral anthems as spiders settled themselves like carrion birds feasting on rotting flesh in his hair

Calm, smooth and so unlike the man before, Harry moves, hips twisting like exotic whiskey and Sirius reaches out, disbelieving as cold flesh meets his trembling fingertips and he falls to his knees, jarred by the stone floor as if Harry was a prayer mount within the eastern sky and he, Sirius was the Eastern God finally returning after conquering the last stubborn square of a turbulent mind.

Calm, graceful. A soothing whisper of name upon cracked lips. Sirius sobs, repentant in his sorrowful misery and Harry, cold and hard, merely shushing him with an empathic noise. This boy is both his and not, and it seems like a sharp stab to his chest, heart beating an unrepentant rhythm of ribbon like silkily fabric. 

Sharp, bird-like boned hands cup his face, lightly trembling thumbs tracing tear slick features and a soothing voice finally giving him what he needed.

"My dear Sirius," 

Whispered, like a secret though none were in the room with them. It's spoken somewhat like a prayer, like a lie told to a child to keep them quiet and happy. Sirius hates him for it. 

He hates himself even more.

"Harry," muttered like a benediction, murmured with the breathlessness of a half removed addiction that still swims through black deadened veins as it feasts on his heart like eyeless vultures. Harry laughs, light and bright but with a sort of cool edge that makes it darker, intimidating and Sirius shivers.

"Harry," louder, more insistent and the hands tighten upon his face and he flinches, repentant even as the younger boy hushes him gently, a slim fingered hand coming up to brush the hair from his forehead. 

"Sirius," cool and collected, as if talking to an acquaintance rather than a long thought since dead godfather. "Sleep, yes?" Tough phrased as a question, there is no questioning uplift of the voice at the end and Sirius knows that though he is not tired he will fall into a scar ridden bed with a scar ridden body and cry himself to sleep, hair splayed like a bloody halo and a whippet thin boy besides him.

He nods, still on his knees and prays as he falls into sleep with a benediction on Harry upon his tear slicked lips, whiskey smooth hips slight and sharp against his muscled abdomen.

-

They stare at him, wide eyed and opened mouth. They whisper beneath their hands, words like Once-Beast and Carrion-Boy spoken like curses behind their breaths, like they have never seen anything so interesting in their pitiful lives.

One girl, bold and fire fierce with golden curls and sad emerald eyes, smiles at him, quicksilver and dull but brighter than the largest moon and Harry floats, like a boat upon a smooth ocean, until he remembers Lily Evans' smooth porcelain skin and sad, sad eyes. 

Sirius keeps him close, almost as if he wanted to shackle him to Sirius and though Harry could not begrudge the man, he liked wandering around, as silent as a ghost and half more terrifying as the students whispered, scared and as awestruck as they are horrified.

They question his loss of sight and yet his apparent ability to know where everything was- the first time, a boy with sandy hair and scarred features and the portrayal of a feral wolf within silver tinged eyes, asks, Sirius grows, offended, low and feral and Remus Lupin quietens and Harry laughs because how the tables have turned and Sirius turns to him, eyes dark with sorrow and mouth pulled low in uncertain repentance. 

He merely smiles, dull and quick as he sees a lanky boy with lanky hair and a scarred soul and mourns because he sees, in Severus Snapes mournful face, two bloodied fangs and the last gasping death rattle. 

Sirius doesn't understand yet leaves him be when he calls Severus behind, talking to him in low, warm tones and somewhere along the lines, Sirius started to see a kindred spirit when Severus flinched, features growing pinched in such a way that his fists grow hard and his knuckles itch. 

He looks away and tries not to think of his younger selfs cruelness. 

It doesn't work. 

-

Professor McGonogall questions Albus of the wisdom of letting a clearly deranged boy stay within the confines of the castle and Harry has to sit upon Sirius as the man lunges at the transfiguration professor, rage clear in even torn, uneven line and snarling threats about her standing a little closer to the floor than before.

Albus Dumbledores glided eyes are as amused as they are sad and as Sirius calms, his smile returns and Harry feels the low churn of regretful rage deep within his stomach because this was the man who had managed to destroy his life and several others. He was the one who had caused Sirius' death-

Harry could never forgive him.

As Sirius rages quietly, simmering in his once boiling anger, and McGonagall glares, sending frightened glances at both Sirius and Harry, Harry and Albus converse. They speak in quiet tones, neither quite familiar yet quite strangers with the other because this Albus is without the malicious manipulative streak he displayed after James and Lily Potters death and this Harry is an anomaly, a stranger taken from his time and splattered like ill torn arterial blood spray within somewhere he isn't quite sure exists apart from in his own fractured mind.

They rage deeply, silently, because they are both alike but do not wish to acknowledge it. They wonder at their missing puzzle piece, older and yet younger with once dark hair and slate grey eyes and the hateful name of Tom stuck upon torn, half-blood lips and mourn because what would the world be like if they were together, power and power and powers, manipulation, cunning and ruthlessness shared and quartered-the world would have been on their knees.

But they aren't and two are plotting against one because one is too out of control, blinded by his arrogance and ill devised mannerisms and though they mourn, they know the consequences and so Albus and Harry decide to ignore the glistening tears upon both their cheeks, wiping them away and discussing.

Sirius shivers, listening to calm tones and familiar voices and feels terrified as magic mingles and twists and tosses and Harry's blind eyes gaze just above Albus' right ear. Albus returns a polite smile, strained and contorted in ways Sirius knew he was unable to read.

Minerva doesn't even try.


End file.
